


CBE (Complete Bond Experience) for the Uninitiated

by Ionaonie



Series: The Bond Files [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bond is a menace, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ionaonie/pseuds/Ionaonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The image on the main screen was a tad grainy, even cleaned up, but Bond was easily recognisable, lounging at a corner table, drink in front of him. He wasn’t wearing a tie, but the suit was sharp and probably cost more than the bar he was in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	CBE (Complete Bond Experience) for the Uninitiated

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed. All mistakes are mine and if you see anything glaringly obvious, let me know.

‘Come on, Q.’ Bond’s voice was low and tight.

‘We’re working as fast as we can,’ Q murmured, his fingers flying over the keyboard, his eyes never leaving the screens in front of him. He was keeping half an eye on the security feed, just in case, the rest of his concentration on the numerous hacks he and his team were currently executing. Bond seemed to enjoy asking for the impossible on short notice. 

The image on the main screen was a tad grainy, even cleaned up, but Bond was easily recognisable, lounging at a corner table, drink in front of him. He wasn’t wearing a tie, but the suit was sharp and probably cost more than the bar he was in. 

Picking up his glass, Bond let it obscure his mouth. ‘Work. Faster.’ 

‘There are twenty-seven different databases to hack, Bond. If you think you can do better…’

‘Get it done.’

‘Yes, well, your charming mug is already the face of Martin Barstow in twenty three different databases.’ At least changing them all back to the original photo was going to be easy. ‘We just have to hope that no-one you’re meeting today has had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting Mr. Barstow.’ 

‘And the other four?’ 

‘Oh, do stop getting your knickers in a twist, 007.’ 

It was impossible to see Bond’s expression clearly, but Q had the feeling that if Bond was the kind of person to splutter that’s what he’d be doing right now. As it was his incredulity translated loud and clear down the comms. 

A snicker went around the lab and Q took a moment to glare at those averting their eyes and hiding their mouths behind their hands. After his last escapade Bond was still very much person non-grata in Q Branch. Another gun lost, his enhanced moblie phone returned damaged beyond all repair and a fireproof digital skeleton key lost in an explosion that 007 swore blind wasn’t his fault. 

Q Branch had the relevant footage. It was definitely Bond’s fault. 

‘You are aware that Symone tends to terminate those who displease him.’

‘I’m sure a medium league crime lord looking to branch out into international terrorism will present no problem to you. Unless, of course, you’re actually trying to follow M’s directive and destroy as little as possible for once.’ 

There were a flurry of grins exchanged across the room, but Q pretended to ignore them. After all, giving Bond hell was good for morale.

Bond didn’t say anything, and Q got the feeling that if he was any less of a professional he’d be glaring at the camera. 

‘You’ll forgive me if I’d prefer to walk out of this flea pit still breathing.’

The minutes ticked over as Bond waited to interview as a sub-par assassin for a crime boss operating in Budapest. 

As the Polanski Syndication firewall collapsed under the weight of Q Branch, Q allowed himself to smile. It was obliging of criminals to keep so many of their records on computers these days. ‘Twenty-six down, One to go.’ 

‘Take your time.’

‘Patience, 007. Patience.’ 

Q caught Gemma’s eye from where she was supervising a few interns new to the department – this was their first _Complete Bond Experience_ (or CBE), as these moments had been dubbed - and allowed a small smile to pull at his lips before diving back in. Metaphorically speaking. 

On the camera a heavyset man approached Bond and gestured for him to follow. As he stood, Bond growled, almost too low to hear, but Q’s microphones were superior tech, so they not only picked it up, it echoed around the lab. A few of the more timid interns flinched. Bond would like that if he ever found out. ‘Now, Q.’ 

‘Nearly there now.’ 

He was painfully aware of the seconds ticking away as Bond was led through a door behind the bar and into a dingy corridor. 

Bond was walking casually, maybe too casually for Symone’s henchman, judging by how they were pushing him down the hallway. Q scowled at the idea of Bond stalling, however slightly, just to give him more time. 

‘Get a move on, 007,’ he muttered. ‘At the rate you’re walking Symone will be on his flight home before you even say hello.’ 

On command, Bond sped up and Q forced his fingers to speed up too. Everyone in the room was silent, completely focused and concentrating on giving Bond the best possible cover at such short notice.

They had maybe a minute to go when a door opened before Bond and he walked into the room where Symone was. The weaselly looking man was sitting behind a desk that was far too big for him - ‘Suffers from Napoleon’s Syndrome, I see’ he commented to Bond - and yelling, either in Spanish or Portuguese, into a prehistoric mobile. ‘God, Bond, even you’d been embarrassed to be seen with a phone that old.’ 

Symone finished his call by throwing the mobile at the wall. He couldn’t be sure, but Q swore he saw one of the henchmen shake his head, which suggested this was completely normal behaviour.

He scowled at Bond who was probably staring back impassively. 

‘Martin Barstow?’ His accent was so thick that Q couldn’t help but wonder how he got anything done in Budapest.

Bond nodded.

‘Marcus Symone.’ 

‘Finished,’ Q announced as Bond shook Symone’s hand. 

As Bond took the seat offered, Q allowed himself a shaky breath. He’d never doubted his ability to deliver, but he’d have preferred it be a little less fraught. 

At least this early on a Monday morning. 

——

An hour later, Q watched Bond push open the door to the bar, his collar raised against the frosty wind, information acquired. 

‘Next time, Q,’ he said as the door slammed shut and he disappeared from the security cameras, ‘let’s not get quite so close to the wire.’ 

‘Says the man whose entire career involves cutting it fine,’ snapped Q. 

‘Oh, now, Q. There’s no need to sound quite so jealous.’

Gemma made a stabbing motion and Q rolled his eyes. ‘M is looking forward to hearing your report in due course.’

‘Of course he is,’ Bond said on a sigh. 

‘We’ll see you soon then, Bond.’

‘I look forward to it, Q.’

‘And with all our equipment intact.’

‘That’s looking like a distinct possibility. But, Q, you know how I hate making you promises when I’m so far from home. Bond out.’ 

‘You shouldn’t have said anything,’ said Gemma, coming up and leaning against the table next to him.

‘What?’

‘You shouldn’t have asked. Now he’s going to work extra hard make sure it gets lost or broken on his way back just to make a point.’ 

And, honestly, Q really should have thought of that. ‘Bugger.’


End file.
